Furious Angels
by Hanae da Firefly
Summary: It was the end of his hollowness, the turning point of another's existence, and the beginning of a new life as they rediscovered their humanity. [canon] [auron, leon x cloud] [threeshot]
1. finis

_finis_

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_a whole is that which has beginning, middle, and end  
-- aristotle  
_

* * *

He was beautiful.

Golden hair, more pristine than the softest slivers of light that shone down from beyond the sun; flawless skin so white and pure; and eyes deeper than any ocean, clearer than any sky. Fingers so small and tender that wrapped delicately around his calloused hands with such gentleness; face so petite and endearing; cheeks rosy and poignant; expression kind and full of love and adoration; smooth breaths a soothing, caressing gust; and voice so soft... so strikingly soft.

Beautiful.

A stark contrast to the burning darkness of the Underworld, scorching flames searing up through the dried cracks of the dead and hardened soil, blue fumes reeking through the air with putrid stenches, adorning the yellowed bones of dead carcasses that littered the ground. The rancid air was boiling from the sheer steam and heat that made up these darkened pits, black dried blood covering the mass of the ground and rocks, causing them to decay.

His hardened eyes quietly studied the child who had fallen from the sky, letting those plump arms wrap around his hand and hold it close to that soft, warm body, resting that round face against his coarse knuckles as those cherubically blue eyes closed drowsily, allowing long, golden lashes to flutter.

His other hand rested against the hilt of his blade, gripping it furtively as he raised himself, got to his feet, cradling the baby in one hand. He was unsure of what to do since this was all rather new to him, but one thing was certain – Auron had no interest in keeping… _it_.

Of _course_, Auron found it quite _novel_ that such an angelic little thing managed to drop off the edge of the Otherworld and survive the fall into Hell, and he fully applauded the baby's hardiness in remaining alive in such a toxically decrepit place. However, all novelty aside, this was no place for a child – much less a baby – and Auron was not going to go to any lengths to ensure that it remained alive. If it lived, it lived. If it died, he didn't particularly care. But, he supposed that he'd give the baby a chance and decided to at least _allow_ the kid to be someone else's burden. Yet…

What were the odds of a little angel falling into Hell?

He supposed he wasn't one to make qualms since an angel _had_ fallen into Hell; right into his lap, the angel had. But it was still quite oxymoronic, to a point. And perhaps also a little romantic. Maybe if Auron had been in the Underworld for a shorter period of time, or maybe if the baby had dropped into his lap a little sooner, he would have been a bit more willing, a little more sympathetic. But too much time had passed and Auron, having been impounded in the deepest pit of Hell for a sin he had all but completely forgotten already, was just like all the other demons. Emotionless. Hollow. Empty of anything. Independent of hopes or dreams. A dead thing.

Resolutely, the warrior gathered himself, tightening his grip securely on the child and walked in long strides past the ghastly demons that resided the dark realm, unknowingly huddling the baby away from them in the loose folds of his robe due to a swelling surge of distrust that had welled up in his chest. The demons approached him cautiously, a few sniffing curiously at him before he glared them away, forcing them to back down. They eyed him suspiciously from a distance, and Auron frowned, feeling a little squirming and fidgeting from the baby. He tentatively held the angel out slightly, hard gaze unwillingly softening almost immediately as they lingered on the cherubic child who had taken to sucking on its thumb. He absentmindedly cradled the child to rest, rough fingers gently caressing the top of the infant's head as the baby fell to sleep against his warm body.

He stared at that serene face, a face that knew no troubles, knew nothing about the Inferno it now subsisted in. With those chubby cheeks and that soft body, Auron knew that one wrong move, one fall or trip or toss or snap, one absolutely critical and wrong move could end the life of this baby. It seemed fitting, he thought, if the baby could die in this infernal pit sinless and pure, without having to learn about this Hell – this Hell of the Hereafter… or even the Hell of the Otherworld. The Otherworld was just as hellish as this chthonic Underworld, but even so Auron remembered about there being a few sweet pleasures up Above, even with all the misery that existed among those living up there.

Maybe it would be merciful to forego survival and just kill the baby then and there.

And then a part of him piqued with curiosity – would it be possible for such a delicate thing to ever survive in the Underworld?

Survive…?

Laughable. Auron snorted, scoffing at the thought. He could barely believe that he even _considered_ a chance of survival for the baby. In his opinion, the baby had less than a negative percentage to survive. The souls and spirits – metaphysical manifestations of once-living beings that resided in this place, that could die no more than it had already – barely outlasted in the Underworld. In fact, he was surprised that the kid was still even breathing, and was, admittedly, counting down the minutes until the baby… no longer did, to put it politely.

Still… for a mere baby, a non-resident, non-dead being to still be alive after so long…

Without knowing, Auron had been staring gently at the sleeping child, his other hand caressing that smooth face with a softness he had long forgotten. It was strange, he thought, and suddenly Auron recalled a time millenniums in the past when he had been alive and had committed no crime. In the haze of his memories, he could vaguely recall holding something just as small with just the same softness, looking down in the same way… with the exact same… smile?

Auron was startled from his thoughts, his free hand already tracing out the unremembered lines in the corners of his lips. His eyes darted down once again, feeling an unrecognizable surge of solicitousness as he found himself unable to look away at the baby who was burrowing itself into the open fold of his robe, grasping onto a leather strap that had been buckled around his waist for security.

… novel. Yes, this was… very, very novel.

Auron paused a moment in his thoughts, realizing that this child had unexpectedly elicited that humane part of him from long ago… and he had to admit that he was impressed. Maybe he had even started to develop a soft spot for the kid.

Maybe he wouldn't leave him to die at someone else's hands.

Reluctantly, Auron tore his gaze away from the sweet child, looking up warily down the path to find the grandeur of darkness looming across the lands in the distance. Auron was extremely able, one of the two or three human spirits that had actually managed to survive the ravages of the afterlife. How many souls would be willing to shoulder the burden of another being, a fragile and _living_ one at that?

Auron found himself making a bet to no one in particular – maybe to the baby, maybe to himself – and he was figuring out what the odds were of him succeeding in raising a living human baby in the Underworld… what the odds were of the baby growing up, maybe… maybe even making it out of this place.

Then again, this was still, after all, merely a _child_.

A child, fallen to a place where even the warmth of the sun cannot be felt, no longer able to reach out to the land that lay beyond the skies; left to live a struggling existence motionlessly.

"Like a Cloud," Auron found himself whispering, to which the baby gurgled happily. A smirk ghosted across his face.

_Like a Cloud._

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**  
A/N:** Omg, I LIVE? An old WIP I decided to rework and randomly post. It's very short, so it's not going to be a huge pain in the ass like Rain Falls Softly had been. This is just me wanting to break away and write something thoughtful and mature. Hope you like. Yet another take on fanon from my many points of view. This is a very brief three-shot about how Auron, Cloud and Leon each rediscover their humanity through their unlikely, if not shaky, relationships with one and the other. It will become an eventual ambiguous Leon x Cloud thing.

Don't forget to park your mouse on the little purple button called 'REVIEW OMG'. 8Db


	2. medius

_medius_

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_a whole is that which has beginning, middle, and end  
-- aristotle_

* * *

Hell was dark.

Like a stain, a smear of ink on bleach-white paper, it was a concentrated black... a swirling mass of hunger and death that spread in wicked tendrils, sprawling outwards and tainting everything that it could touch. Hell was bleak and vile, made worse because of the incubi, remorseless spirits with nothing more than a thirst for blood and a lust for flesh. It was like the bottomless black pit of eternity - an abyss with no outer limit, nothing to escape from, nothing beyond pure nihility - nothingness.

Cloud would never hear it from those lips, would never remember at all being held with an embrace of kindness, words that he secretly longed for. All his existence, the only thing that he had known was a man with no soul and a world with no Sun. Auron was what kept him alive, was what made him strong, and even though he somehow felt that gratitude was in order, he couldn't find it in himself to feel grateful for being kicked and beaten and spit upon and sneered at through the years he spent growing up.

He was a rebel, was always questioning Auron about why, and how, and why, why, _why_ he was treated so, but all that got was another kick, a growled command to stand up and take the blows. He always fought back, could not be obedient, and somehow he felt like that was exactly what Auron wanted. It was ridiculous, the concept, because Auron settled for nothing less than utmost servility to his every word. He would always be beaten up, cruelly, unmercifully, for any mutinous act.

But he could not deny that glint in those hard eyes that spoke of glee.

Sometimes, Cloud wondered... was Auron what one would call abusive? Was he sadistic? Did he personally enjoy torturing, tormenting a boy as young as Cloud? Was there some unspeakable pleasure he derived from each drop of blood that he spilled?

Cloud knew that he, _he_ was different. He wasn't like the rest.

Like _Auron_.

Even if physically, more than just physically, Auron was the closest Cloud would get to 'similar'.

Cloud was the only being that actually _grew_ in this forsaken hole. He had heard from a dead witch spirit, claiming to have suckled him as a baby, that he had _been_ a babe; he had fallen and crawled and walked and run and then he had been a boy. And he knew it to be true because he had been a boy once, but now he was close to being a man. Years, months, weeks , hours - time was meaningless in the Underworld and so Cloud knew nothing about age or time... but he knew that somehow, time affected him.

And so, as time passed, he grew.

Within him, the hatred festered.

Cloud devoured it, was fueled by it. Auron only seemed to encourage it. With each ounce of strength that he developed, each plane of muscle that began to tone his starved body, each extra inch he grew and dodged and jumped, that hatred raged on furiously. He was entering adulthood, was becoming even stronger than he could have imagined, was able to _harm_ Auron.

No, he had never known kindness - not from Auron, especially not from Auron, and he knew that there was no such thing as kindness when you were a 'Hellion'. He had been trained to be strong, independent, free from the shackles of 'emotion' and 'reliance'. There was no one Cloud could trust but himself, no fool that would ever truly accept him... whatever he was, because he could never accept another. Never.

He would never be a pawn, a puppet.

He would be the puppet master - the one to pull the strings and control. Control.

How he savoured that word.

On day, all of them - every single one of these snivelling cretin - AURON - would grovel at his feet, beg for forgiveness, claw at the cracked soil, fall for his favour.

And he would toy with them, play on their fear. He would control them, dominate...

Once and for all, Auron would experience exactly what Cloud's soul had been _burnt_ with for all these years.

When Hades finally released him from the Underworld (through a meaningless contract that Cloud and a flimsy promise for a 'light' that Cloud only believed in because it was what made him feel significant and worthwhile as a child and a teenager and a _person_), the first thing that engulfed him was _pain_.

It was far more excruciating than what Auron had ever managed to inflict on him, and had he been any less tolerant of it, he was assured of certain erasure. A pang of thankfulness for being trained to be strong and hardy was there for a second, but the sensations riveting and tearing through his body was far too overwhelming. He was heaving repeatedly, feeling as though he was trying to vomit out his soul, that something was trying to force its way out of him.

In a flash, an instant, as he was swallowed by a sickly green vertex of souls, two things manifested of him, swirling in a tired embrace before fleeing apart. He saw two faces, two smiles - one grim, the other wispy - and when he closed his eyes, he felt himself fade. Maybe he hadn't been strong enough after all... maybe he was not meant to leave Hell... maybe he just belonged there, belonged with the blood and bruises and hatred that culminated there.

But it was strange.

When he had woken up, he was not, as it were, drenched in a pool of his own blood. He was covered in perspiration, and as his eyes fluttered open, something seared into his line of sight and he barely felt himself stagger onto his feet.

The ground felt so solid and supple under the heavy step of his boot, tips of the nimble grass flailing wildly against his feet as a strong breeze billowed through, totally different from the desert-like soil of the Underworld. There was wind in the Otherworld, something he had never before experienced and something that certainly didn't exist in the fiery bowels of Hell. This soothing current of air brought along with it a fragrant smell of blossoms and earth, the scent tingling and musky and foreign that it made him feel strangely at ease though he grew alarmed at how relaxed his body was becoming.

It was so bright, Cloud paused temporarily to allow his eyes to adjust to the immense Sunlight that engulfed him. The warmth of the Sun washed over him like waves rolling calmly onto sandy white shores, receding smoothly before swelling once again. The dim and murky darkness of the Underworld that he had grown in made him unaccustomed to the brilliant light, but for some strange reason, he was able to withstand all these... things. But maybe this was why he had been released in the first place; because of his abilities, his regeneration, his emotionless hardiness after all those harsh years of blood and fire. He didn't know what it had taken to have been granted freedom from the Underworld, and even though the shackles that tied him to that Hell still remained – symbolized by the dirty fell of his single obsidian wing – Cloud was intent to keep himself out, no matter what the price.

All his life, Cloud had been fuelled by a longing for vengeance, a hatred, betrayal beyond any normal human comprehension… not understanding why he had been made to suffer as he had, or why he had been made to commit sin after sin _because_ of his suffering. He wanted revenge – he didn't know upon whom, but he knew that his bloodlust would never be satisfied until he had _ended_ the one responsible for all his torment.

But then…

Under the bright rays of the Sun, Cloud felt that dire restlessness in his soul recede; dissipate almost, being replaced with a desolate yearning for normality, for salvation, god help him. Underneath the Sun, completely embraced in light, Cloud felt an overwhelming disgust for his motivations, for what he had been, for what he was now. He felt like a monster – no, even worse than a monster – with a carnal lust that made him all the more horrific and just as bad as the one he wished to kill.

In that one moment, he felt moved. Beyond all doubt, beyond all reason, Cloud felt as though he had been freed from the burden of hatred.

And then he was empty.

Without his hate, he had no purpose. He had lost his direction. Yet...

Was it so wrong, suddenly, to just exist? To be alive?

There was a tug on his hand, and he followed blindly, walking towards a colossal structure in the distance, towards an overwhelming scent of sand and oil. The sensations excited him, but he was confused and... perhaps a little frightened.

In the eye of his mind, everything had gone white and there were two people standing before him. One was tall, ominous, vicious. He was the man with the grim, elegant face. Beside was a person shorter, beautiful, the look of exhaustion and desperation that could only describe what part of his soul felt.

Both beckoned to him.

He ignored them.

When he reached the Coliseum, he saw, for the first time, other beings like himself that were not Auron. A few peered at him, nodding at him. A boy waved at him with a bright grin. Others stared openly at the ragged clothes and the vivacious eyes. Most stares were glued to the overpowering sword in his back. Cloud's breath quickened slightly, and somehow, his eyes felt moist. His lips trembled and he was glad for the safety of his mantle. He stepped forward, not a single bit as confident or meaningfully strong as he had been when he was in the Underworld.

Thoughts and memories plagued him with each step towards the Great Entrance, towards the satyr named Philoctetes. Everything he had ever done, everything he had ever been made to do, everything he had ever thought of, all of it lead to this. He was walking in the Otherworld, walking among men and boys and people, and even though he had invisible shackles on his feet, he was there. He was underneath the Sun. He was where he felt that a person could only belong.

That was why, when he saw Auron leaning against the Gate of the Underworld with a smirk on his face, he felt a lurch in his stomach, a knot in his throat... and the fear of being left totally alone.

He couldn't help walking towards the image of spite and hatred that he had created for himself. There was his aggressor... but somehow, he felt like Auron had been foremost a protector. This was the first time he had ever felt anything of the sort, had ever even _thought_ about the possibility, but he felt as though he was right.

It was the tight embrace, the heavy sigh that left the older man's body as those arms squeezed him tightly without wanting to let go... it stirred something in him that he was sure he had forgotten.

And then the words.

"You are a great warrior, Cloud," Auron's voice was always gruff, but this time they were whispered, slightly cracked. "Never forget that. Fight for your freedom."

He saw Auron smile at him, felt how those hard knuckles were white from the tight grip and saw how that smile wavered slightly and Cloud couldn't help himself-

"I _hated_ you."

As Auron chuckled weakly, his arms fell to his side and he slowly walked backwards into the abyss.

"I loved you like you were my own."

Cloud returned to the world beneath the Sun. 


End file.
